I wanted to stay. I wanted to play. I wanted to love you. I'm only this far, and only tomorrow leads my way. I'm coming slow, but speeding.

Things change, that much is true. Some bright creature once said "the only constant is change itself." As it were, this saying is now a cliché, but it doesn't make it any less true.

I escaped to this journal because I was disenchanted. Yes. I figured out what changed. Isn't it predictable, to run away from change? And isn't it ironic, that in running away, you create a new change? Maybe I'm not so much running, as drifting.

Comment if you like.